


The Night the Lights Went Out in L.A.

by Cat_Moon



Category: Moonlight (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Humor, Silly, Spoof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-28
Updated: 2019-06-28
Packaged: 2020-05-28 13:17:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19394920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Cat_Moon
Summary: Sort of Moonlight meets Mad Magazine meets 'The Night the Lights Went out in Georgia'.  Read if you dare (but keep beverages out of reach).





	The Night the Lights Went Out in L.A.

**Author's Note:**

> SPOOF, Satire, Humor (hopefully), quite possibly horror. The names have been changed to protect the innocent. Or is that the guilty? It helps to have read those Mad magazine spoofs back in the day. Hey – that’d be pretty cool, if they did a spoof of ML. Not as cool as Mick flying like Superman, but hey, you can’t have everything.
> 
> Once there was a rumor that Josh would be replaced with another ADA who might also be a romantic interest for Beth... So I had to write about it. I've been told I need to put up a "no beverage" warning on this.

In the weeks (well, one week, two days, and five hours) since Posh PoultrySeasoning’s death, Muck St. Gin had noticed a change come over his beloved (well, secretly beloved anyway… or maybe that was not-so-secretly? He really couldn’t be sure if she was twisting his balls on purpose or really was that dense. She _was_ a natural blond…). Uh, where were we? His beloved Barf Dontturner wasn’t behaving in her usual sweet, innocent manner. It baffled and disturbed him; he feared she wasn’t dealing with her loss well. His suggestion that she seek counseling had been met with stony rebuff – as opposed to meeting him in the buff, which was a recurring fantasy of his – and at this point he had no idea what else to do besides just be there for her. He was good at that. He’d been doing it for 22 years now, so he had a lot of practice.

Muck was in his office at his computer spying on—uh—doing surveillance on Barf via the five listening devices and four cameras he’d strategically placed in key places around L.A. (like Buzzwire, and Barf’s bedroom, and Barf’s shower, and did I mention Barf’s bedroom?), when he got a call from his best friend and fellow vamp, Joseppe Constantinople.

“What is it Joseppe?” Muck asked in an annoyed tone, annoyed to be distracted from his stalking—uh, keeping an eye on Barf. Didn’t she know the shower was the most dangerous place in the entire house? An accident could prove deadly, but Muck would never let anything happen to her. Unless _he_ was the cause of it, but that was totally beside the point. “What do you want?”

“Hey, no skin off my nose if you don’t want to hear from me, but I just thought you’d want to know that CoraDeville was just found dead.”

Mick sat up in his chair. The old ball & chain — uh, his beloved ex-wife CoraDeville More - again was dead?? Dead again? “Are you sure?”

“Stake through her heart and her head in her hands – literally. Dead as a doornail. Bit the big one. Gone to that big freezer in the sky. Playing harp in the fang farm, gone to—“

“I get the idea!” Muck interrupted. “I’ve got to find out who killed her.”

“I figured you’d want to take the case.”

“Because she’s my ex-wife?”

“No, because you’re a vampire private eye. It’s your job.”

“I’ll find her killer,” Muck vowed. “Even if it takes me eighty or ninety years. I’ll avenge her death.”

“Because she was your sire?”

“No, because I’ll live forever, what else do I have but time on my hands?”

XXX

The first rule of detective work was to ascertain who the most likely suspect was. Yeah, okay, he didn’t really know if it was the _first_ rule, since he’d never actually gone to detective school, but it sounded better than saying, “the _fifth_ rule of detective work…” The MO was familiar: stake in the heart. That spoke of violent emotions, someone with a grudge. The beheading meant the assailant had insider information and knew exactly how to kill a vampire. The victim usually knows their killer, and it’s usually someone close to them. Taking all these factors into consideration, Muck came up with his first suspect: himself.

Unfortunately, that turned out to be a dead end, since he hadn’t actually killed her. Well, THIS time anyway. Back to the drawing board (where he drew some tastefully erotic freehand portraits of Barf). He guessed this vamp-cat only had three lives, since she’d been “killed” three times, and the last time had definitely not been lucky or any charm. That train of thought screeched into the station as he realized who he’d seen eating Lucky Charms recently… there was another perfect suspect: someone who had already killed CoraDeville once as well – his beloved Barf. She had the motive, the opportunity, the prior pattern. As much as he hated to admit it, Barf was his number one suspect.

He was going to have to add some more cameras, and step up his surveillance. Oh well, when you’re dead why should you need sleep anyway?

XXX

The surveillance soon bore fruit, although Muck only kept it at the apartment for show, since vampires don’t eat. Well, except for the limes, but you can’t have Margaritas without lime. Vampires didn’t eat, or drink, or pee pee, or poo poo – but thank God, they could drink booze! Muck couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His beloved Barf was on a date – with Ada Newguy. _How could she DO this to me_ —ah, I mean, Posh?! Poor, dead Posh. He wouldn’t have been dead (well sort of not dead, but kinda still dead) if Muck had turned him, but that was beside the point. He was dead, and Barf was dating (which was a euphemism for hiding the salami) some other guy.

Muck saw red, and it wasn’t just the bed sheets Barf and Ada were lying on. Or is that laying? He never was sure which was correct, but since it had been seventy-some years since school, he didn’t care, either. He had looked the other way when Lt. Kool Dateme dated her on his water bed two days and eleven hours ago. That was different. He wasn’t sure exactly why, but it was. Er, maybe it wasn’t. Barf wasn’t supposed to be dating anyone but him. Sure, he’d rejected her at every turn, but that was beside the point. Sure, he kept telling her it could never work out, but he was just kidding. Surely she knew that? They were meant to be together. Fated. That’s why they kept accidentally running into each other. Yes, it was true that with the GPS devices Muck had installed in several key places, like Barf’s car, and purse, and bra, he knew every move she made. It was still fate.

Unsure what his next move should be, Muck turned to his best friend for comfort (not that kind of comfort, get your mind outta the gutter!). They discussed the dire situation over Margaritas. With lime. Well, at least something good had come out of the whole thing.

“I can’t believe it,” Muck mourned into his glass. “She’s cheating on me!”

“Are you actually IN a relationship with her?”

“Well, no.”

“Have you ever dated her?”

“Well, no.”

“You’re right, the woman is a bitch. Listen, Muck, I’m just telling you this for your own good, and because I’m your best friend. Tell you the truth; I’ve been with her myself.”

“You what?” Muck stared in shock.

“She came to me, all hot to experience the feeding thing again. You always refused her, and she wanted it.” Muck glared at him. “Hey – I was hungry!”

Feeling betrayed by the only people in his life who put up with him, Muck stormed off.

“It was lunchtime and all I’d had since breakfast was a bloody nose!” Joseppe called after him.

XXX

Lt. Dateme was the one to find the dead body of Barf Dontturner, and find Muck St. Gin standing over her with blood on his hands. Outraged and incensed (he’d never get a piece of that sweet tail again!) he promptly arrested Muck for murder. They never tested the blood, or they would have found out it wasn’t Barf’s – it was just the bag lunch Muck had picked up at the morgue before going over to Barf’s to talk things out with her. It was a quickie trial, they wanted a scapegoat for the crime, and Muck was the perfect patsy. They manufactured the evidence they needed: hidden cameras and recorders all over Barf’s property and person, GPS devices planted to track her every move. The Ada presented him as a stalker, who became violent when the object of his affections didn’t return the feelings. It was an open and shut case – or so they thought…

Muck doesn’t know I’m still alive, and that’s how I’d planned to keep it. I lost my beloved brother right after his wedding. None of us ever saw him again, but I never stopped looking. It wasn’t hard; in fact the yellow pages gave me the clue I needed: Muck St. Gin, private investigator. I never told anyone else in the family, knew they couldn’t handle it. I started watching him, found out what he was. After that I started hanging out with vamps, and when I started to get a bit long in the tooth I made the decision to become one. It wasn’t hard finding someone to turn me. Learning how Muck felt about being a vamp I didn’t come forward about myself; knew he couldn’t handle it. I watched his train wreck with CoraDeville, cheered when he killed her. Then it turned out she was still alive… little birdie in her dear brother’s ear told him what she was doing, and let’s just say: his cheap wife had never left town and that’s one body that’ll never be found…. (by the mortals, that is). After that, there was just one more problem: Barf Dontturner. I saw the look on his face, how she was breaking his heart over and over again. I’ve always been protective of my little brother, and I don’t intend to stop now. So I did what had to be done. Never expected him to show up and get nabbed for her murder. Dear brother always was a klutz.

XXX

Judge Electric Chair Charlie looked around the court room before speaking. “Is there anyone here who knows of any reason why I shouldn’t convict this man for murder one?”

“I do.” Ginny St. Gin spoke up, walking down the aisle to the judge’s bench, as Muck stared in shock at the apparition.

“How do you know?” the judge demanded.

“He was with me,” she answered.

“And you are?” Ada demanded.

“This is MY courtroom, not yours,” Judge Charlie chastised him. When he had cowered in the corner at the rebuff, the Judge continued. “And you are?”

“His sister.” There was an audible gasp from the audience. This drama was better than a TV show – and they thought a trial was going to be boring. “I have new evidence with me, just discovered by the coroner.” (a fellow vamp, of course).

Judge ECC examined the file folder Ginny handed him. “This is conclusive DNA evidence that proves conclusively who the murderer is,” he declared. Wow, just like a TV show, he was glad he hadn’t played hooky to get some nooky like he’d wanted to… “The murderer is – YOU!” he pointed a long finger at Ada Newguy.

“Me?!” Ada squeaked. “No way! I didn’t do it! I been framed!”

“Put him in chains!” the judge demanded of the officers conveniently standing by. “I’ve made my decision. Guilty on all counts. The sentence is death by electric chair!”

“No!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m innocent!!!”

Ginny put her arm around her brother’s shoulders and led him from the courtroom. “Too bad, nobody ever told him what happens to the Newguys.”

(or the ADA’s).

**The end**

3/15/08

5:24 PM

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't heard it, go and find the song, “The Night the Lights Went Out In Georgia” Rebe McEntire is the version most people know, but I'm old so I favor the original by Vicky Lawrence. You Tube has a really cool version where they are both *together* singing it.
> 
> Lucky Charms is a breakfast cereal.


End file.
